Deep within the belly of the earth, an ancient evil has awoken from its state of torpor. A swarthy blight sweeps throughout the land as entire settlements go dark. In the wake of destruction nothing but clouds of black smoke harrow the gospel of their coming. Despite the carnage and ferocity shown, many of the locals simply have gone missing. Their body’s never to be found. Whispers have traveled across the realms of these tragedies. Birthing whimsical tales of utter woe and despair from within the elven territories.

The empire of dust, the realm of men organized their 103rd brigade and sent them across the realm. For weeks the brave knights who specialize in impossible missions and the slaying of monsters sixty strong traversed the land. Fending off the elements, bandits and all manner of beast. From orc to griffin only resistance would they find along the path.

For weeks they traveled all the meanwhile the tales of death only grew in intensity. Some even claimed that the elven capitol itself had trouble opposing this nameless horde. The nearby kingdoms were becoming flooded with refugees, each spewing forth a baneful story.

Upon entering the elven territories the signs of war became apparent. The air was thick with fear, the aroma of burning flesh prevalent. Normally the wind carried about the favorable scent of springs spice. But no longer, for the war drums reverberated across the land. As the mechanical shrill of the war machines wheels being turned pierced the normal clamor.

Passing from one wreckage to the next, the knights witnessed the lack of clemency this enemy has shown. Woman, children and elderly alike were not spared the sword. Their wasted potential morbidly adorning these streets of ruin. Along the road butchered merchants caravans served as a constant reminder that this enemies influence was everywhere.

Finally after quite the march the knights found themselves within sight of the elven capitol. The epicenter of their architecture, art and elven ingenuity. Sticking in a tight formation with the banners held high they’d march toward the mouth of the city. Their horns echoing throughout the city as the jaws were opened for them. Distrust was common between the races, but given their current situation permitting the aid of mortal kind and letting them within their city seemed preferable to oblivion.

As they marched down the streets the men could sense the hopelessness amongst the people. Their faces riddled with that of uncertainty. A people once curtained that all under the stars had been revealed to them, for once seemed lost in the current affairs. As if a blanket of obscurity had clouded their sage like perception. “Do you see their fear? It’s thick in the air and like stone unwavering on their faces.” One of the knights would whisper toward probably their most unique member. “Yes…even our presence here has done little for their faith?” The knight retorted, yet despite the organization being renowned for its male only qualification.

The voice coming from the masculine suit of armor was feminine. “Screw their faith. Their talk of fate makes me sick…but their woman well that’s a different story.” He’d retort, those emerald irises of hers drifting momentarily toward her fellow knight. “Be careful Borg, You don’t want to break their petite little bodies.” She’d jest, Borg would chuckle.

“Wrong Zeph I do.” His response causing a smirk to rest on her lips, shielded by her helmet. The formation would come to a halt as they approached the towns square. Given the order to fallout and standby within the area the knights would fan out. Zeph was an enigma, the first female knight within the world of men. How she reached such a status few knew, but it wasn’t an easy road for her. Even now she had to deal with drunken comments and the occasional sexual harassment. Most of her brothers respected her, due to her uncanny natural ability to wield a blade.

She was not permitted to speak in public, at least where others can hear her. Nor was she allowed to remove her helmet. Even now as her shield brothers removed their head gear, Zephmora kept hers on leaning against a nearby brick wall. Finally dawned her favorite part of any operation….The waiting.

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